Business as Usual
by Yaseanne
Summary: Richie is still Richie. Warning: GeckoSlash fic


**Pairing/Warning**: Seth and Richie Gecko: incest, not graphic  
**Disclaimer**: This never happened, I'm not making money with this, no harm intended; neither the characters nor the original scenario are mine.  
**Author's Note**: I'm just a guest in FDTD-fandom and generally passing by. Feedback is much appreciated.

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**Business as usual**

_Vampire. Vampire. Vampire_. No matter how often he says it in his mind it stays real, stays close to him with bloodshot eyes and _pointed teeth_.

"Hold him," he says, and goes looking for a rope, tries to shut it out. Doesn't want the others to see that not only is his brother a killer, a homicidal killer, he's also a _vampire_. And his brother, which is why he merely picks up some rope from behind the bar and orders the others – big black guy who must be the strongest of their little group, and what kind of biker calls himself _Sex Machine_ for God's sake? – to tie him down. Or up. Whatever's available in this mess.

"You can't keep him bound!" cries Scott – little Scott who thinks he's all grown up. By the end of the night he'll probably be. "He'll kill us!"

"Richie," says Seth – tries once again to shut out the teeth and the eyes and if his brother is a soulless creature now how's that different from before?

"Richie. You gonna kill me?"

Richie is bound against a dancing pole that's surprisingly strong. Hands behind the pole, head leaned back. He licks his lips and strains against the ropes, but it's half-hearted. Seth takes a step closer, careful as if approaching a wild animal. Lifts his hands and frames his brother's face like countless times before when it's _dead woman on the café floor – dead girl in a car – dead woman on a subway seat – dead woman on a motel bed_. Repeats.

"You gonna kill me, Richie?"

Eyes flicker up, down, up, mouth half-closed, forehead un-wrinkling. And fuck it, this is _still_ his brother.

"No, Seth."

"Say it. Say it, Richie. Say 'Seth, I'm not gonna kill you.'" Something crashes against the door but both ignore it.

"Seth, I'm – Seth, I'm not gonna kill you." Face almost back to normal.

And the amazing thing, the most surprising thing that happened this whole damned evening? Seth believes him. So he nods and brushes Richie's cheek and turns away because there are vamps rising, it's back to the action.

He needs a clear head for this, he can't possibly think about Richie and what he's become – and what's the most effective way of killing a vampire? Where do they hurt, eyes, heart, head – can they regrow something, survive burning, acid, how many can he kill, how many will come? Where is Carlos, and where's the rosemary and the liqueur?

But that's not the point, the point is. Seth's been standing on the edge of insanity for so long, always hanging on to sanity with one hand and Richie with the other. And now Richie's dropped, has hit fucking _zero_ because you can't get any closer to hell than this, and Seth's grip on _Carlos-Mexico-Money-Tequila_ is slipping.

He keeps on shooting, though, 'cos that's what he's good at. He's fucking fantastic at killing people, despite his claims of only doing it out of necessity, and killing vamps means he's on the side of good, for what's probably the first time in his life. He can shoot one – two vamps and throw the empty gun away, lose himself in the movement and the kill so he doesn't have to think about the fact that he's. Slipping.

And then it's over – maybe until dawn, maybe only for five minutes, and it's now or never. If he doesn't kill Richie now – kill the vampire Richie – he'll never do it. Wipes some blood off his face and turns around, cue dangling from his fingers. Ignores Mr Vietnam's Great Solo Story and thanks a dead cop for his inconvenience, and the state of Texas for making their Rangers wear shoes that don't slide in blood and vampire… fluid.

Richie looks like Richie and sounds like Richie, which is a plus because had he spoken like before Seth'd have killed him on the spot. He moves like Richie too, leaning into Seth's touch like a puppy begging for attention. Seth almost snorts when Richie tries to lick his hand. There's blood on it that must be tempting his brother, but it might not be the only reason. Richie licks and sucks on his fingers and Seth gasps because it doesn't matter. Because maybe, this is one more fucked-up part of the fucked-up puzzle of their relationship where the pieces never fit. Seth files them and Richie rips off the edges and together they build it around themselves. What they can't fuck over or kill or maim they integrate.

So Seth says, "If you kill them, I'll kill you." And, because Richie always obeyed – no, thought logically – when he was given a reason, adds, "We need them to survive until morning. The more, the better."

And of course Richie nods and Seth hopes – would, in fact, pray to God if it helped, or God listened – that this isn't like the times before, where it only lasts one day. That this time Richie finally gets it. But one day would be enough.

He buries his hands in Richie's hair, hugs him and tries to guess how much of his brother is left. If Richie's still Richie he won't have to worry because one, Richie will never hurt him (no matter how often _he_ hurts Richie) and two, Richie will, perhaps, if it's only the usual voices in his head talking to him, not hurt any of the others.

So he lets Richie get close to the others, sulk around the priest and his kids. Watches for any signs of danger, fingers around the cue. But Richie only makes one, two rounds, then he returns to Seth. Grins. Not like a vampire. And because no one is watching – and he doesn't give a fuck about them anyway – he allows Richie to touch him. Put his hand around Seth's back and lean against his chest. Lick blood off Seth's arm, Seth's shirt, Seth's throat –

He can hear the distant beating of bird wings and a story of American-soldier-kills-Vietcong, hears Scott shuffling his feet and Richie's labored breathing close to his ear. If Richie bites down only once, if he faints and gravity pushes his teeth into Seth's neck, if, if…

Seth is _hard_. He turns his head a little, kisses Richie on the cheek, chin, lips. Opens his mouth and receives a tongue that tastes of blood, that licks the roof of his mouth, then retreats. He runs his hand down Richie's back, pulls him closer, cups his chin and – triumph of the non-undead – feels Richie's pulse beating against his fingertips. Richie is warm – privately, Seth often wondered that his brother's skin seemed to be hotter than anyone else's, and whether he would die sooner. He's also insistent and rubbing himself all over Seth, and something heavy that's been dragging Seth down and going unnoticed until now is being lifted. It feels good and _right_ and _business as usual_, and Seth knows that they'll both survive this, that they'll meet Carlos at dawn and that Richie is still _his_.


End file.
